


No Expectations

by AthenaGA94



Category: South Park
Genre: Awkward Stan is awkward, College, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaGA94/pseuds/AthenaGA94
Summary: Stan Marsh is lost.  His best friend seems to have forgotten him.  His depression is at an all time high.  And now he just feels stuck.  He has no idea what to do.  That is, until he meets Betty.  He's kinda glad he got trapped under that awning with her.





	1. Chapter 1

Stan stared. Rain fell from the sky in ceaseless sheets. The puddles pooled around his sneakers as droplets bounced off the pavement and up his leg. He could barely see the parking meters across the street. He sighed and tugged at the straps of his backpack. His shoulders slumped, the midterm in his bag grew heavier each moment he stood there. The tiny awning over his head was the only reprieve from this otherwise shitty situation.

“God damn it,” he huffed as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, make some room!”

Stan started and he glanced to his left. A young woman sprinted toward him. Her patterned shawl was thrown over her head in a desperate attempt to stay dry. Stan stepped aside just as she stopped just under the edge of the awning. Water splashed from the puddle and up on Stan. He grimaced.  
“Thanks,” she breathed as she settled beside him. Stan regarded the young woman. Her pants were soaked past the knee. Her blonde hair was damp and knotted from the wind and mascara clumped under her eyes. She glanced up at him curiously. He cleared his throat and turned curtly towards the storm. A knowing smirk played on her lips as she wiped at her face. The mascara smeared further down her cheeks.  
“Let me guess,” she began, “midterm in your backpack?” Stan gave a curt nod. He glared at the rain, willing it to stop. It didn't. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic “Me too,” she continued conversationally, “well, not really, it’s a composition for my music theory class.”

“Theory,” Stan grunted, “I’ve heard that class is killer.”

The young woman deflated. “You’re telling me,” she groaned, “it’s due 8am tomorrow, so like hell I’m rewriting it.” The corner of Stan's mouth twitched involuntarily. He felt her pain. “What about you? What class has you stranded?”  
“Poli-Sci,” Stan retorted, “the professor wanted a fucking hard copy. I’m supposed to be turning it in now, butー” he gestured to the rain irritably. The young woman tugged her shawl around her shoulders. She shivered.

“That sucks ass,” she noted, “you’ve got some luck, kid.” Stan laughed bitterly. If only she knew. She watched the rain dreamily. “I’m Betty by the way.”

“Stan,” he offered.

Betty smiled. She sifted through the pockets of hear jeans and tugged out a cellphone. “Well Stan,” she slurred, “do you think they’d deliver a pizza here?”

“What?”

“Pizza, ya know, cheese, sauce, pepperoni?” she continued with a roll of her eyes, “I didn’t get a chance to eat today and it’s likeー” She glanced at the time on her phone. “9. I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for awhile.” Stan shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. As if to prove the point, thunder cracked loudly in the distance. He shuddered. “A really long while.” Stan cracked a small smile.

“I guess there’d be no harm in trying to order a pizza,” he offered.

Betty beamed. “Right you are,” she replied as she scrolled through her contacts, “I’m going to order pepperoni if that’s cool?” She brought the phone to her ear and turned away from him. Stan dug his hands deeper into his pockets. He shivered. It was by no means cold. For Park County, it was downright balmy, yet his skin prickled with electricity. “Yes, can I get a pepperoni pizza?” Stan watched Betty curiously. Her movements were jerky and fast. Like she was coming down from a caffeinated high. She probably was. It reminded Stan of his friend Tweek.  
“Yeah the red and white awning right by campus. It’s by that flower shop. Yep, that one. Can you deliver there?” Betty paused. She flicked her damp hair over her shoulder. “Really? That’s great. See you soon!” She hung up and turned towards Stan. Her smile was wide. She had dimples. Stan smiled despite himself.

“Good news?” he asked with a chuckle.

“In about 15 minutes, we’ll have our very own pepperoni pizza,” she gushed. Stan nodded. His attention turned back to the rain. His heart sank as a small sigh pressed through his lips. Betty furrowed her brow at him. He ignored the look. She sidled back to his side. “So,” she began slowly, “what year are you?”

Stan straightened. He gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. “Me?” Betty glanced around herself curiously. She turned back to his with an amused smirk. “A junior,” Stan offered sheepishly.

“Let me guess,” Betty replied with another flip of her hair, “Political Science major?”

“Yup,” Stan affirmed, “My turn. Music major?”

“Nothing gets by you, does it kid?” she mused dryly, “Composition and writing emphasis. I want to write music for the big names one day. Live the dream, ya know?” She leaned against the wall. Water dripped from the ends of her hair. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Stan muttered with a shrug. She stared at him expectantly. He sighed. “My dream? I don’t think I have one.” Betty’s face fell. She turned forward.

“That’s unfortunate,” she whispered. She kicked the puddle at her feet. More water splashed up on her. She didn’t seem to care. They stood in silence for a few minutes. Betty played with the puddle. Stan shuffled his feet anxiously. His gaze was trained on the storm. The silence should have been uncomfortable. The little voice at the back of his head scolded him for being such a downer. Yet, he found peace in their silence. Betty didn’t appear to expect anything from him.  
Several minutes passed. Eventually, a car pulled up to the curb. Water sloshed at their feet. Stan took a step back. Betty did not. A pizza logo was plastered to the passenger door. Barely visible in the rain. Betty brightened. She set her backpack on the ledge and hurried to the passenger door. “Hey,” she greeted. The delivery man offered her the box through the window, but she held up her hand. “Quick question,” she cut in, “how much extra would it be for you to give us a lift?”

Stan perked at the word ‘us’. He raised his hands defensively. “That’s really not necessary,” he insisted.

Betty glanced over her shoulder. “Oh shush,” she stated flippantly. Stan flushed. He watched her chat with the delivery driver. She was completely soaked by this point, but she didn’t seem to notice. She dug in her pocket and offered the driver two twenty dollar bills. She reached for the back door. “Get in loser,” she jeered, “you’ve got a poli-sci paper to turn in.” Stan stared at her, speechless. “Come on,” she groaned, “your professor isn’t going to wait all night.” She opened the door and crawled in.

Stan smiled. He reached for Betty’s bag and hurried from under the safety of the awning and into the backseat. Betty took her bag with a content hum and cradled it to her chest.

“Thank you,” Stan breathed, “you literally saved my ass tonight.”

Betty flicked the air. “It was nothing,” she assured, “you don’t fail and I get free pizza. It’s a win-win in my book.” Stan smiled fondly. They settled back in their seats. A comfortable silence settled between them once more. Betty drummed her fingers against her thigh and hummed quietly under her breath. Each note was carefully chosen. Methodical. Stan wasn’t familiar with the tune. He watched the street lights pass overhead. Their soft glow muddied by the rain.  
Eventually, the car pulled in front of a small apartment complex on the outskirts of campus. Betty perked up. “This is me,” she chirped. She pulled off her shawl and placed it over her bag. Her gaze turned to Stan. “It was a pleasure,” she insisted with a coy wink.

Stan smiled. “Thank you again,” he pressed. She waved him off. 

“Anytime,” she cooed, “good luck on your paper. Try not to get stranded under an awning next time.” She gave the driver a curt nod and slid out of the back seat. She hurried out into the rain and disappeared from sight.

The delivery man turned to Stan in the back seat. Amusement colored his bright blue eyes. “So,” Kenny drawled, “who was that?” Stan flushed angrily.

“Shut the fuck up, Kenny,” he hissed.

The blonde shrugged and turned towards the wheel. “Well, whoever she was,” he continued with a snicker, “she’s a great tipper.” He tucked the twenty dollar bills into his hoodie pocket. Stan pursed his lips.

“I can’t believe you took her money. You would have given her a ride for free,” Stan countered evenly.

“She offered,” Kenny reminded, “who am I to turn down free money? I’ve got an education to pay for.” 

Stan scoffed. “Can you just take me to turn in my paper?” Stan pleaded, “and then maybe take me back to the apartment?” Kenny hummed thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” he jeered, “that may cost you extra.”

Stan massaged the bridge of his nose. “Can you just do this for me?” 

Kenny frowned. He peered through the rearview mirror at the raven-haired boy. “Is everything alright?” he asked quietly. Stan didn’t respond. Instead he stared out the window at the rain. Kenny sighed and tugged the shift out of park. The car pulled away from the curb. They sat in silence. This one was different. The air hung thick between them. Kenny continued to look at him through his rearview mirror. Stan suddenly found it difficult to breathe.  
“Have you taken your medication today?”Kenny asked, breaking the silence. Stan shrugged. His gaze didn’t leave the rain. Kenny sighed sadly. “Take it when you get back to the apartment.” Stan grunted noncommittally. The car stopped at a red light and Kenny turned around. His eyes were colored with concern. “I’m being serious. It does help. You may not think so, but it does.”

“Okay, I will,” Stan huffed defensively.

Kenny gave a satisfied nod. “I don’t mean to be so blunt. I’m just trying to be helpful,” Kenny admitted as he turned back stare at the road, “Kyle’s a lot better at this than I am.” Stan’s heart wrenched. Kenny flinched. “Sorry. I know that’s a touchy subject right now.” He pulled the car in front of Gore Hall. “Go turn in your paper. I’ll wait here to take you back to the apartment.”

“Thanks,” Stan replied briskly. He hopped out of the car and ran towards the building.

* * *

Stan offered Kenny a small wave as he pulled away from the curb. His shoulders slumped as soon as the car rounded the corner. He turned away and shuffled through the door and into his complex’s lobby. Warmth engulfed him, yet his skin still prickled. Stan fished out his keys as he climbed the stairs.  
The door to his apartment swung open. Everything was dark. The stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes hung in the air. Stan grimaced as he stepped over the threshold. His backpack fell off the slopes of his shoulders and onto the ground with a dull thud. He flipped the switch on the wall. The overhead lights flickered on after a moment. Empty bottles, cans, and pizza boxes littered the floor around the trash. Clothing was strewn over the furniture. Stan wasn’t sure whose it was at this point.  
He kicked off his shoes and stalked down the hall towards his room. His door opened with a low creak. Stan flipped the switch. His light flickered a few times before burning out. “Fucking perfect,” he grumbled. He walked over to his desk and clicked the small lamp. It bathed the room in a soft glow. Stan straightened and glanced around. His desk was covered in various textbooks. Football equipment was tucked away in his closet. In the corner sat a guitar, untouched. There was a pill bottle on his nightstand. Kenny’s words echoed in his head.

_“Take it when you get back to the apartment.”_

Stan sighed as he reached for the bottle. He shook a pill into the palm of his hand and popped it into his mouth. He grimaced and swallowed it with a wad of spit. The bottle rattled ominously as he set it back. He stretched his arms over his head. His joints popped in response. Stan crossed the room towards his dresser. His wet clothing clung to his body. He peeled his shirt from his back and it fell in a sopping pile at his feet. He sifted through his drawers and pulled out a Terrance and Phillip shirt. After a tentative sniff and a shrug, he tugged it over his head.  
Stan fished his phone out of his back pocket and set it on his dresser. A green light blinked in the upper corner. Eyes widening, Stan grappled with his phone. He clumsily turned it on, hope etched his face. His eyes darted across the screen and he immediately deflated.

**Clyde Donovan**  
_party next friday b there free booze n bitches_

Stan sighed and tossed his phone on his bed. Stan finished changing and stretched out on his bed. He burrowed beneath his duvet. His fingers wrapped around his phone as he cradled it to his chest. The distant hum of the heater filtered through the air. Stan’s eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed. His grip on the phone tightened as his eyes fluttered shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Kenny tugged a shirt over his head as he passed Stan’s room on Friday night. He paused and peered into the room. The raven-haired boy was sprawled on his bed. He scrolled through his phone intensely. No doubt what he was re-reading. Kenny’s shoulders slumped. “Hey." Stan started and glanced up at Kenny blearily. “Are you going to the party tonight?” Kenny continued with a pointed look.

“Are you asking me if I'm going?” Stan mumbled, “or telling me I'm going?”

Kenny smiled sheepishly. “I think it would be good for you to get out,” he admitted, “you’ve been cooped up in your room all week. Some booze and socialization would do you some good.”

Stan clicked off his phone and rolled out of bed. “Telling me,” he grunted, “got it.” He grabbed a hoodie from the floor and shrugged it on. “Let’s go then.” Stan brushed past Kenny with his hands buried deep in his pockets.   
Kenny sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. At least he got him out of the house. That had to count for something right? Maybe he was finally getting the hang of this _Super Best Friend_ bullshit. It only took three years. Kenny forced an easy smile on his face and hurried after the noirette. "Not so fast," he called after him, "I'm driving."

* * *

Stan popped his can of Pabst. Foam frothed over the side and onto his hand. With a grimace, he took a swig and settled against the wall. A mass of people gyrated wildly at the center of the room. Their shouts were drowned out by the bass pumping through the speakers. Clyde and Jimmy had managed to add more strobe lights since the last party. The light show was enough to give anyone a seizure. Kenny had long since disappeared, not that he minded terribly.  
“Stan!” The raven-haired boy turned his attention from his beer. Clyde Donovan stumbled to his side. He cradled a bottle of whisky to his chest. “Glad you could make it.” He clapped Stan on the shoulder and settled beside him.  
“You know me,” Stan drawled, “I can’t turn down free alcohol.” Stan took another gulp of his Pabst. His attention turned back to the horde of students. It was difficult to distinguish one student from another. They seemed to move as one dark terrible creature. Stan's heart hammered in his chest. “Good turn out," he noted after another moment. He hated how his voice hitched.  
Clyde grinned toothily. “I know, right?” he gushed as he unscrewed the cap of his bottle. He took a sip and hissed. Whisky dribbled down his chin and onto his lettermen. “You can thank Jimmy for the chicks,” he noted hoarsely, “that lucky bastard is drowning in ladies. Fucking music majors.”  
“Are you telling me coaching doesn’t attract the ladies?” Stan replied dryly. Clyde pouted up at him. “Just saying,” he defended with a shrug. The blur of students appeared to double. The air was damp and thick with the smell of sweat and booze. Stan took shallow breaths.

“Hey,” Clyde continued, “When is Kyle coming to visit next?”

Stan’s chest tightened. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it,” he retorted shortly. He took another drink. He prayed Clyde would just let it go.

“That’s funny,” Clyde stated offhandedly, “I figured you and him would be up each other’s ass about that. He is your best friend after all.” Stan’s grip tightened on his can.

“Kyle’s been busy,” Stan assured. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Clyde or himself. “He’s got a scholarship to uphold. He’s probably engrossed in his studies.” Clyde took another glug of whisky. Stan’s heart pattered against his chest annoyingly. It was getting harder to breathe. Stan chugged the rest of his drink and tossed the can along the wall. “I’m going to go get another drink,” he grunted as he pushed past Clyde.  
Stan staggered through the kitchen door. Things were quieter in the kitchen. Less compact. Someone had propped the window open, so brisk autumn air wafted into the room. Stan took a few deep breaths. The beating of his heart slowed. A few people sat at the breakfast bar, chatting quietly. They paid him no mind. Thank fucking god.

He crossed the room towards the bins of liquor His hands combed through the ice. A shiver ran the course of his spine. After a few moments, his fingers closed around a new can of Pabst. 

“Hey, grab another while you’re down there.”

Stan straightened and turned. A blonde with a slight frame stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Oh,” she beamed, “it’s you.” An easy smile flitted across her face. “Hi!”  
Stan blinked. She looked a lot different when she wasn’t soaked to the bone. Her hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders. She wore light makeup tonight, no clumps of mascara around her eyes. 

“Betty, right?” he started slowly, “hi.”

Betty’s smile widened. She crossed the kitchen to join him. “So do you know Jimmy?” she asked conversationally, “or maybe one of the other boys living here?” She knelt down and sifted through the bins. She pulled out a can of Bud Light and popped it open. Stan watched her, brow furrowed. His fingers tapped anxiously against the tab of his beer.

“Yeah,” Stan affirmed, “I know all of them. We went to school together. South Park.”

Betty nodded. “Oh another South Park native. This campus is crawling with you guys,” she joked. She laughed airily. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You're like a damn cult.”

Stan smiled dryly. “Yeah, there are a lot of us here, aren’t there?” he noted, “It’s close to home I guess.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” she agreed as the popped the tab of her beer. She took a sip. “I’m from North Park.” Stan’s eyes brightened.

“You mean you’re an infamous Bulls. Sworn enemy of the South Park Cows?” he jeered. Betty chuckled.

“You must be mistaken,” Betty countered with a smirk, “sworn enemy means that South Park was even competition to begin with.” Stan gave her a wounded expression.

“Ouch,” he pouted, “I was once the star quarterback of the Cows.”

Betty pursed her lips amusedly. “Star quarterback implies you were good.” She winked playfully. Stan felt his face flush. His heart sank and settled deep in the soles of his sneakers. Betty seemed to sense this shift. She threw her hands up and waved them dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m only pulling your leg.” she assured quickly, “I never really cared for the North Park Bulls. They played dirty.”

Stan perked. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, “No one believed me when I said they were cheating.”

“Oh, they definitely cheated,” Betty confirmed. She took another sip of her drink. “They didn’t hide it either. Not that the teachers would do anything about it. That place was a shit hole.” Stan scoffed.

“You think North Park was bad. Try living in South Park.”

Betty laughed. “Oh, I’ve heard stories from Jimmy,” she replied, “I think I’ll pass on that. At least North Park wasn’t responsible for the near damnation of the world.” Stan smirked. The group at the breakfast bar had since returned to living room. They were alone. “Want to sit and chat? I came in here to catch my breath anyway.” She gestured to the stools by the bar. Stan paused. “Unless you were going back to the living room.”   
Bass filtered from the doorway. The idea of going back made the breath catch in the back of his throat. He shook his head. “Nah,” he stated, “I’ll stay here for a bit longer.” Betty smiled. They made their way to the bar and took a seat. Stan flipped the tab of his beer and brought it to his lips.

“So did you get that midterm turned in?” Betty asked, “oh and was the delivery driver nice enough to drop you off at your apartment?” Stan flushed.

“I got it turned in just a fine,” Stan assured. He took a sip. “The driver was a bit of a prick though.” He added nonchalantly. Betty straightened.

“Really?” she queried, “he seemed so charming when I talked to him.”

“Oh I bet he was,” he mumbled. Betty quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, “did your midterm go well?”

“It went really well,” Betty gushed, “we had to perform them in class. Everyone did amazing. It was great to see how far everyone’s come since the beginning of the semester.” A small smile flitted across Stan’s face as Betty explained her music theory class. Her movements were still jerky and expressive.

“Did you come with anyone tonight?”

Stan blinked. “My roommate,” he stated, “I have no idea where the fuck he is.”

Betty chuckled. “I came with my roommates too. I lost them somewhere on the dance floor.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find them eventually. I’m not too worried.” Stan nodded. A silence settled between them. Betty fiddled with the hem of her skirt once more. Stan sipped his drink. His mind was beginning to buzz.

“So,” Stan started slowly, “what do you do for fun?”

“Well, when I’m not at work, I play and write music,” Betty explained animatedly.

“Where do you work?”

“The Pet Store on West Avenue,” Betty replied. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. A light returned to Stan’s eyes.

“Do you like animals?”

“Like? I think adore is a more appropriate word,” Betty corrected with a laugh, “I love dogs specifically. I have two of them at home, not here at school though.”

“Me too,” Stan exclaimed, “to everything. I love animals, especially dogs. I volunteer at the local shelter just so I can play with the dogs. They get so excited to have company.” Stan found himself grinning. Excited dogs made things better. “As soon as I graduate, the first thing I’m doing is adopting from the shelter. There’s this one dog. He’s been there for awhile. A little rough around the edges, but he’s the sweetest thing. Nobody wants him though.”

Betty frowned. “How come?”

Stan deflated. “He’s older, not terribly, but he’s no puppy,” he explained, “he’s missing a part of his ear and is partially blind in one eye, but he’s still a normal dog. All he needs is someone to love him.” Stan drew circles in the countertop. “I plan on being that person.”

Betty’s expression softened and a fond smile flitted across her face. “That’s a real noble thing,” she insisted, “I hope you get the chance to adopt him.” Stan smiled sadly.

“Thanks,” he muttered, “sorry about dumping all that on you. I didn’t expect that to take a heavy turn.”

Betty waved him off. “Nonsense,” she stated, “Not all things in life are sunshine and roses. It’s good to talk about the heavy things sometimes. Does the mind good.” Stan paused as he regarded her. The sincerity was etched on her face. Again, she expected nothing from him.

“Betty.”

Betty glanced over her shoulder. A young woman with auburn hair stood in the doorway. A blonde was draped helplessly over her shoulder. “Esther puked. I think it’s time to go,” the young woman informed. The blonde muttered incoherently into the crook of the redhead’s neck. Betty jumped out of her seat.  
“Of course,” she exclaimed. She glanced back at Stan. He stared at his hands. “I’ll be right there.” The auburn haired girl glanced between Stan and Betty. She pursed her lips. Betty waved her off. “Give me like 5 minutes, Annie. I’ll be right out I promise.” Leah sighed and shuffled out of the room. Esther clung to her shoulders. Betty turned back to Stan. She held out her hand. Stan started. He glanced at her open palm confusedly. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone? So we can exchange numbers,” Betty explained, “Obviously something wants us to stay in contact. So why not?” She smiled and tugged out her phone. She slid it across the table to Stan.  
“Oh,” he breathed. He dug through his pocket and pulled out his phone. Betty took it from his hand and began typing her information. Stan grappled for her phone and did the same. After a moment, they returned the other’s phone. Betty smiled.  
“I’m glad I bumped into you again, Stan,” Betty stated. Stan nodded numbly as he pocketed his phone. She offered a small wave and began walking away. She paused at the door. “Oh I almost forgot,” she exclaimed, “you had a notification on your phone. I think it was a text or something.” Stan’s heart pounded against his chest. “Bye Stan.” Betty disappeared through the door. Stan was now alone.

He shivered. The room was now eerily cold as he fished his phone out of his pocket. He clicked it on. His heart pounded against his chest as his eyes darted across the screen.

**Kyle Broflovski**   
_I know it's been awhile. I’m sorry. I’ll call soon. I promise._

The grip that had been clutching his heart for weeks finally loosened. Stan let out a slow content breath. “You can do this,” Stan assured himself, “you’ll be fine.” He flipped through his contacts. His thumb lingered over Betty’s name before he continued down the line. He tapped a name and brought his phone to his ear.

“Y’ello?” The sound of shouting could distantly be heard in the background.

“Kenny?” Stan muttered into the receiver, “where the fuck are you?”

“I went out for a smoke,” Kenny replied nonchalantly, “where the fuck are you? I turned my back for five minutes and you disappeared.”

“If you checked farther than the dance floor, you’d have known I was in the kitchen,” Stan countered with a roll of his eyes, “not why I called though. Are we staying here tonight?” There was a rustle on the other end. Probably Kenny switching hands.

“I’m not driving, that’s for damn sure,” Kenny informed, “Tweek and Craig are out of town again this weekend. I’m sure we can crash in their room. Clyde probably wouldn’t mind.”

“Good,” Stan sighed, “I’ll be in their room if you need me.”

There was a pause on the other side. “Everything okay?”

A faint smile ghosted over Stan’s face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling the booze,” Stan assured, “I’ll see ya tomorrow morning.” Kenny grunted in response. There was a click and the line went dead. Stan tucked his phone away and made his way toward the bedrooms at the back of the apartment.

He placed his ear against Craig and Tweek’s bedroom. There was silence. He let the door swing open and crawled into one of the beds. It wasn’t long before he was snoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2. Hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's chapter one. I hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
